


Figures on linens

by facingawayfromthewall



Category: Babylon Berlin (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Drabble, F/M, Feelings, Original Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facingawayfromthewall/pseuds/facingawayfromthewall
Summary: She seemed alright. Serene in her sleep. Like she wasn’t Charlotte Ritter, the force he knew and reckoned with daily. Charlotte, the first women in the murder department of the Burg. Charlotte, his quick-witted assistant who had seen something they all had not seen. Connected the dots. Found the culprit.Imagined scene between 3x11 and 3x12. Gereon visits Charlotte in the hospital at night after she was attacked by Ulrich.
Relationships: Gereon Rath & Charlotte Ritter, Gereon Rath/Charlotte Ritter, Gereon Rath/Helga Rath
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Figures on linens

Berlin-Mitte was nearly devoid of people at this hour. A few were huddled together, hurriedly walking, their feet hitting the cobblestones with a rhythmic _clackclack_. Men were walking with their hands deep into their pockets, hats angled so the moon could not cast its glow into faces. Hidden, non-descriptive people. There were only a few women present on the street after midnight - most of them accompanied by their husbands, lovers, some of them meeting their companion for the first time this night, on the path to exchange services for money. It was always possible to tell. Not with what they were wearing or the dark lipstick, smeared by a previous companion during the night - no, it was its kind of air hanging between them and their companions.

Gereon Rath was paying them no mind, walking among the anonymous faces. His hat was turned so low into his face as if it wanted to protect its wearer from curious glances.

He tossed the old cigarette on the ground, his pace not slowing while lighting another one. He wasn’t really thinking, not after tonight. After everything that had happened.

His destination finally appeared after rounding another street corner. The familiar brick building was standing directly below the moon. It wasn‘t a long walk from the _Burg_ to Charité hospital, but somehow this strangely thoughtless walk in the night felt like everything between five minutes and two hours.

Gereon kind of knew that the events of the night, however turbulent they were, had nothing to do with him not trying to think about where he was going.

It seemed kind of stupid to visit - after all, he already had made sure that she was alright. Had held her hand while she was lying on the stretcher. Had felt so relieved after she had opened her eyes.

It was not as if he did not have better things to do. He briefly thought about his nephew, everyday more a teenager, more like him when he was his age. Getting involved with the wrong people. In his mind he saw Moritz’ eyes, so young, so shocked and frightened, next to the corpse of Horst Kessler. And of course, there was the journalist who had agonized the highest of the _Reichwehr_.

That had to wait until morning, though. It was midnight, after all. Katelbach wouldn’t get himself into trouble tonight, right?

Gereon climbed the three steps at the entrance of the Charité. The lights at the night nurse‘s station indicated that its occupant had only left for a moment, perhaps only a few seconds. He quickened his pace. Of course, as a police investigator, he would be let inside, but he had no patience to show his badge and explain that he was visiting a colleague at this hour. It wasn’t unusual for staff of the police department to pay their wounded partners a visit, but usually the police force consisted of males on both sides.

Besides, he knew by now that the hospital tended to place wounded members of the police force on the third floor, in the left wing.

He reached his destination without incident, the whole place seemed as if completely asleep —as if not only the patients, but the whole staff had been put into a deep trance. He threw his cigarette butt in the ashtray next to the door of the wing.

He recognized her immediately in the dark room. Her bed was next to the window, only the moon shining on the white linens, contrasting the figure between the covers. She was asleep.

Gereon quietly went towards the window, towards her bed. The thin lines of the curtains threw a shadow in her face, making it look as if it was split in half. One side a bit darker than the other.

He quietly sank into the chair next to the bed. Really, what was he doing here? Charlotte was sleeping.

Scanning her face he looked for signs that she was still unwell. He knew that the insulin shouldn’t have any lasting effects - she should be fine in at least a couple days of days, but he wanted to be sure.

She seemed alright. Serene in her sleep. Like she wasn’t Charlotte Ritter, the force he knew and reckoned with daily. Charlotte, the first women in the murder department of the _Burg_. Charlotte, his quick-witted assistant who had seen something they all had not seen. Connected the dots. Found the culprit. In their own line. And nearly paid with her life.

There was a strand of hair in her face. A dark, slightly wavy strand, touching the shadow of the moonlight in her face. Instinctively, he raised his hand, moving the strand away, behind her ear.

Charlotte stirred a little, but seemingly not waking up. Her lips slightly turned upwards, as if smiling. He wondered if she thought he was her sister. He knew that she lived with her younger sister, that she had rented an apartment for them, caring for her.

He frowned. He didn’t know much about Charlotte. When her other sister, seemingly blinded and frightened had come into the office with her angry, screaming husband, he hadn’t realized at first that they were Charlotte‘s family. Because they didn’t _fit_ Charlotte. He couldn’t imagine Charlotte Ritter cowering before a man, being tossed around like her sister was. When Böhm had made the remark about women in the office he had wanted to reciprocate, only remembering in the last second that he needed to be in Böhm’s good graces. The Horst Kessler case was important. Moritz‘ was involved in that.

Instead, he had led Charlotte into his office. Offering her a _Schnaps_ , because she was still shaking after a while. Thank god he had offered her his office today. Otherwise he wouldn’t have noticed her things being left there, abandoned. He wouldn’t have searched for her, wouldn’t have had the confrontation with Ulrich. Wouldn’t have found her in the cupboard.

A cross. The moon. A star. The sun. He hadn’t noticed that he was drawing symbols into the white linen next to her. He looked at her sleeping face again.

He tried to think of Helga. Sitting here, next to his sleeping assistant, in the quiet and dark hospital, felt strangely intimate. He had loved Helga for so long. For half his life.

But he couldn’t think of Helga - here with Charlotte. Both women seemed so strangely incompatible in his mind. He couldn’t form a thought in which both of them existed at the same time. Even when they had met, also on these grounds, it was as if they didn’t exist in the same universe. Opposite forces in his life, incompatible and not able to exist in the place.

He blinked. He didn’t want to think of Helga. Of Anno. His mind felt hazy, like always nowadays when he was thinking about his brother. Flashes of a man in glasses, half his face burned emerged for a moment. Gereon stilled his hand which was still drawing patterns on the blanket. Something about his mind was not right - when he thought of his brother. It was as if all logical thought process disappeared when he thought of Anno. As if someone had tried to grab something in his head - to turn it around. To alter it. He shook his head. That wasn’t the right place nor the right time.

„Gereon.“

His eyes found hers. Charlotte was awake, although barely. He saw her trying to make sense of her surroundings. She probably hadn’t really been awake since being admitted to the hospital.

„Everything is alright. You are in the hospital. We caught him.“

She seemed to relax. She scanned his face, although she seemed hazy - from sleep, the insulin, whatever medication she had received at the Charité after her arrival here.

„So, Berlin is rid of one black ghost?“

He smiled. The cut on his cheek started to hurt. Moritz had said that he didn’t smile often. Which was true. Still - it had hurt the most in the past days - when he was around Charlotte.

„Well, there are still enough ghosts on the street for you to catch.“

She seemed to contemplate this answer for a moment in her sleepy haze-like state.

„Next time together with you, _Herr Kriminalkommissar_.“, she said.There was his hand, still lying on the covers, forgotten. She took it into hers. Their fingers interlaced - like they were having their own mind, like this was the automatic answer to the contact. Hot and cold.

She is the sun, he thought absently. Even when it is night.

„I would prefer that, actually. It might get tiring after a while - rescuing you from cupboards.“, he stilled. „And I think I want to know how you are solving cases next time around. I don’t want my only part to be stepping in when a panicked murderer is trying to get rid of you.“

Her voice was getting drowsier again. „It was the minutiae, you know. Really simple.“

Right now, this didn’t make sense. In his mind, he saw Charlotte, a couple of days from now. Vibrant again. They were sitting at lunch, like they did from time to time. She would have a file, somewhere. Show him exactly what she had seen, which conclusions she had reached. Gesticulating with both hands, a half-burnt cigarette in one. Maybe she would grab his hand, using his own fingers to show him - to explain. He wanted to listen to Charlotte Ritter solving cases all day.

He smiled. In a couple of days. When she was better.

Right now, Charlotte had fallen asleep again, her fingers still interlaced with his.

Gereon knew that he was smiling like that day in Gräf‘s apartment. After they had kissed. When he leaned at the doorframe, grinning stupidly at her, his mind muddled from the alcohol and the feeling of being close to her. That day seemed to belong in another life. Although - this moment, right here, on this ward, next to her sleeping form, felt a lot like it.

When he left the hospital, the moon still shone brightly in the sky above Berlin.

**Author's Note:**

> After binge-watching the series during the last two weeks I have entirely too many thoughts about Gereon & Charlotte. This work was inspired by the total lack of works regarding these characters and their absolutely wonderful relationship.


End file.
